


The End of the Road

by sdklr



Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: M/M, Mechpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdklr/pseuds/sdklr
Summary: Their time on Earth drawing to a close, two lovers enjoy a brief lull before a new, difficult chapter of their lives begins.





	The End of the Road

It was deep in the night when Breakdown came back.

Knock Out had been in berth in a half-doze, his systems running a slow backup cycle on software that was old, too old, but he tried not to worry about that. In a few days he’d have access to the best coding Decepticon talent could manufacture. 

He heard Breakdown’s engine cut and his heavy tread approach the trailer door. A thin shaft of moonlight cut the darkness inside before it was blocked by Breakdown’s hunching bulk. The trailer was subspace, larger inside than it was without, and Breakdown had to come in sideways, shoulders first. The whole structure tipped under his weight before the scale could recalibrate and adjust to the new mass. 

A light snapped on. Knock Out grimaced.

“Sorry.”

The light snapped off.

Two bright gold lozenges came closer until the gloom disclosed the heartshape of Breakdown’s rust-coloured faceplate. He nuzzled it close to Knock Out’s, rubbing their crests together so a spark of electricity jumped between them. He smelled good: wind and limestone dust and the oily tang of human roads. They’d been in this territory for weeks and the roads were good, the driving superb. But such precious little fuel. Each day they drove a little closer to the pickup point, and each night Breakdown went out in search of fuel while Knock Out guarded their trailer. Sometimes Breakdown came back with good news and sometimes he stayed out till morning and came home exhausted and empty-handed and they had to ration their cubes the following day.

“I thought you’d be gone all night, big boy.” Knock Out wove his claws lazily behind Breakdown’s thick black neck. He was giving off a lot of heat.

Breakdown sank down onto berth with a happy groan. “I found a good site not far away. I’m gonna wait for morning to dig, though.” He grinned across the pillow, eyes shining. “You’ll eat well tomorrow. I promise. You need your fuel.” He poked Knock Out’s chest gently with a huge finger, then moved his hand lower, tracing the vents and grillework of his belly. 

Knock Out sighed in contentment and opened his legs so that Breakdown could get his hand down there too. It was part of their routine, every night at the end of their travels. Something about the road excited them both in their own ways, and Breakdown’s way was to want Knock Out every night, on his back or on his knees. Even in Knock Out’s current condition, now that they had to be careful. Especially now, that time was running out.

For a few minutes, they lay quietly side by side while Breakdown stroked and stretched him and waited for the lubricant to run. It happened slower now that Knock Out was so deep within himself, but it still happened, because Breakdown was attentive and good at this sort of thing. They kissed and hummed soft vibrations into each others’ audials, passing little waves of affection back and forth between their fields as Breakdown’s venting got heavier and his kisses got sloppier and his hand between Knock Out’s legs got a little rougher.

Soon enough came a sound of latches springing back and a blunt pressure against Knock Out’s thigh. Breakdown’s spike always hurt, a little, but it was a pain that Knock Out filed away with other complicated pleasures, like the ache in his struts after an especially good race. His endurance was a quality he prided himself on. 

There followed a polite moment in which they negotiated a position. Face up or face down? _I want to see your lights. I want to see your **face** , handsome. _Breakdown grinned and rolled Knock Out over so his face was in the pillow. Knock Out howled and they wrestled for a bit, though it was careful wrestling and Breakdown never put his full weight down. Grit fell from the treads of his tires onto the berth. His heavy spike bobbed and swayed, fully extended, while Knock Out’s stayed retracted as it had for several weeks, his valve aching like a spike in reverse. 

When Breakdown entered him, they both went still and quiet for a minute with concentration. Then the first quick shallow thrusts, further and further in, Breakdown holding Knock Out’s hips as Knock Out vented rhythmically into the padding of the berth. _Easy, easy. Slow down._ Breakdown’s arms on either side of him like pillars. A deep push, slow and hard. Pop pop pop past the ridges in his valve, then pressure against a wall deep inside and a sense of unbearable fullness. Breakdown mumbled and cursed and stroked the glowing red lines on Knock Out’s back, while Knock Out went rigid with pleasure and discomfort. Breakdown wasn’t a bot you could relax with. His movements were enormous, too strong. 

But he always asked. 

“Do you like that?” 

“Mmm.”

“Is it good?”

“Mmhmm— oh frag!”

The trailer rocked and squeaked for a time that would seem unnatural by human standards.

Knock Out was beginning to see the shape of his overload behind his shuttered optics: a deep purple ring closing inward, toward a tiny blue point that hadn’t always been there but was getting brighter every day, throbbing with the energy he was giving it. It was Breakdown, and it was him as well. And it was right in the path of the charge he was building.

“Breakdown?”

A strained half-groan. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think you should finish in me.” 

And that was that. No argument. Breakdown pulled out and discharged on the berth, promising he’d clean it up even as he growled and shot more transfluid on the floor. When he was finished he cracked his neck with satisfaction and leaned over Knock Out.

“You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“For real?”

“For real, partner.”

Breakdown touched Knock Out’s chest reverently. It had been months since he’d opened those plates, and he couldn’t bear to imagine what if would feel like if he did it now.

“Do you still wanna overload? I can do fingers if you like. Or my mouth…” His brow ridges waggled suggestively. 

Knock Out considered this. “… No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Are we…” Breakdown began to look alarmed. “Are we going to make it? In time, I mean?”

This made Knock Out smile. He thought about the tiny makeshift incubator Breakdown had made out of a discarded energon cube, lined with electric blankets. They could do it on their own, perhaps. If everything went by the book. But if it didn’t – and it wouldn’t, because who knows how the radiation in this solar system would affect the protoform, nevermind the poor nutrients in the unrefined energon they’d been consuming – they would need help.

“Yes, we’ll make it in time. Another two or three days of driving and we’ll be at the pickup point.” 

“They’ll put me to work.” Breakdown traced worried circles on Knock Out’s grille. “I won’t be able to look after it.”

“They’ll put me to work too. I’m the doctor, remember?” Knock Out cupped Breakdown’s cheek in his claws. If he was honest with himself, he _did_ want to overload, just once and hard with nobody except Breakdown to hear him. But it was too late. His next overload would be in the barracks on a ship outside the earth’s atmosphere, biting down into Breakdown’s hand so as not to disturb whoever was berthed on the other side of the wall, their trailer rusting in a forest somewhere, and a bitlet in a cot at the side of their bed. 

“Another two or three days?”

“After we refuel. If we go fast.”

“Should we leave the trailer?”

“Probably. Yes. It’ll just slow us down.”

Breakdown was quiet, considering this loss and accepting it, like he did with everything when push came to shove. He lay down next to Knock Out and draped a heavy arm over his partner. His optics cast a warm yellow light over everything in their snug little home, and Knock Out felt a pang of love and worry for him. 

“We should recharge, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“Good night, Knock Out.”

“Good night, Breakdown.”

A hand on his chestplate, tapping carefully.

“Goodnight, little one.”


End file.
